


October 31, 1981

by cait_in_a_box



Series: School Assignments [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Freeform, I wrote this for school, Midterms, POV, POV Voldemort, The Potters’ death, Voldemort’s POV, chapter 17, creative writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 10:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_in_a_box/pseuds/cait_in_a_box
Summary: Neither can live while the other survives.Lord Voldemort knows the prophecy. Peter Pettigrew has betrayed his friends. Harry Potter is going to die.A point of view piece about the night of the Potters’ death from Voldemort’s perspective. I wrote it as part of my Creative Writing midterm. /Heavily/ influenced by Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Literally so similar. Don’t fight me. Basically just an extended version of the flashback in that chapter.





	October 31, 1981

The night was cold, but I was unfeeling. Gleeful shouts rang out as children ran between houses, parading as caricatures of magical beings they didn’t believe in. Store windows too were decorated with paper bats and spiders. I proceeded through the streets, gliding along with the confidence that was proper for this occasion. I had nothing to fear; I was too powerful to be troubled with fear. Triumph, yes. I had yearned for this.

“Nice costume, mister!” 

A young boy had spoken. His bold approach faltered slightly as he drew near. The brash smile slipped from his decorated face and was replaced with dread. I saw him turn and run and felt the wand beneath my cloak. One spell could… But the boy was of no importance, a mere distraction. Only one child matters tonight, and he is no doubt too young to be joining the festivities. No, the child I sought was not among them. 

I continued onto a quieter, darker road. The voices of children faded into nothing as my mind was overcome with an unsurpassable need to complete the task at hand. Kill the Potter boy. It was my responsibility to do so. _Either must die at the hand of the other._

I saw the house, windows lit, but undisturbed by children. There was a charm in place intended to keep it hidden, a powerful charm. No one could know it was there unless the Secret-Keeper voluntarily divulged that information. Children would run past obliviously, and neighbors would forget the Potters for a time. However a single misguided decision, their misplaced trust, had exposed them to me. Their Secret-Keeper’s loyalties were with me. They had been betrayed, although it was doubtful that they were aware of this yet. It would soon become clear.

I approached the house silently and paused at the front gate. They had not drawn the curtains. I could easily see into their simple living room where a tall dark-haired man with glasses was producing golden bubbles from the tip of his wand to entertain the little child. The child’s short arms swiped idly at the air. 

The gate let out a low groan and sighed as it swept across the grass, but the Potters did not hear.

The mother was with them. Her deep red hair swung over her face when she bent down to pick up the child. They stood together speaking for a moment. 

My cloak brushed over dead leaves that littered the walkway.

Then the man pulled her and the boy into a warm embrace before she left to presumably put the child to bed. Alone, the man twirled his wand through his fingers once before tossing it aside and melting into the sofa with a theatrical yawn…

_I reached the door. Reducto._

The door blasted open. Immediately I heard cries from within the house. Through the commotion a man’s voice rang out, “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run!”

I stepped over the threshold, and the owner of the voice came skidding into the hall. It often amused me to see the senselessness that arose from desperation. Without taking his wide eyes off me, he called out, “Go! I’ll hold him off!”

I let out a sharp, chilling laugh. Here in front of me was a defenseless man who would somehow try to ward off the most powerful wizard alive. Although I was anxious to complete my task, but I savored the moments. I wanted to watch the curious mixture of sorrow and despair that fills a person’s eyes when they realize their life is over. James Potter did not disappoint. I revelled in his emotional suffering. I could see conflict swirling in the eyes that looked up at me. He hadn’t yet had enough time to decipher what my presence in his home truly meant, but it was dawning on him. Awareness swept over his face; he knew he had been betrayed. His strongest security had been lost, leaving him completely vulnerable. For a moment, his resolve visibly faltered, but he refocused, perhaps motivated by the sounds of his wife and child upstairs. Determination burned behind his glasses. He squared himself as if his body alone could barricade me from his family, his empty hands spread in front of him as if they could stop me. There, I could see the sorrow fill his eyes. He knew. He was wandless, unprepared, and in my way. He was about to die. The thought made me cackle.

_Avada Kedavra!_

His glasses reflected the burst of intense green light. James Potter dropped dead, and like the light from my wand, his life faded away.

From upstairs I heard a scream. She was trapped, although she had nothing to fear… as long as she was reasonable, but there was no guarantee she would be. I stepped over his body, making my way up to the boy. As I climbed up the stairs, my fingers swept up the banister, and I listened with some enjoyment to the sounds of the girl’s feeble attempt to barricade herself in. She had no wand either. How stupid they were to be so trusting, so trusting they thought they could discard their weapons. I reached the door, through which I could hear her whispering empty reassurances to the boy. The smile stretched across my lips again. _Reducto._

The door blasted open and a chair and boxes were cast aside. In the middle of the room with the baby in her arms, Lily Potter spun around and gasped. Quickly, she laid down the child in the wooden crib behind her. She even tucked him into the pale yellow blanket, so trivial. Like her husband, when she turned back around, she threw out her hands to somehow shield the boy.

“Not Harry,” she pleaded. “Not Harry. Please, not Harry!”

“Stand aside, silly girl.” She did not. “ _Stand aside._ ”

She would not listen. “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead.”

She was the last thing in my way before I could obliterate my only competitor. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord._ She did not have to die. Severus Snape requested that I spare her, and after all, his unwavering loyalty was deserving of some reward. I could spare the mudblood, as long as she stayed out of the way.

“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry!” she begged.

I could not understand the foolishness of what people called bravery. Throwing away one’s life, to no effect. I was generous to concede to Severus’ wishes and agree to spare her life. It was her own fault I could not carry out that promise. 

“Take me instead.”

“This is your last warning,” I hissed. “Stand aside, silly girl. Stand aside, now.”

“I’ll do anything. Please.” She would not move. “Not Harry!”

I could have easily forced her forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more suitable to finish them all.

_Avada Kedavra!_

Her pleading green eyes captured the jet of light and flashed with my curse. She too fell to the ground, her final tears escaping from her eyes.

Finally I turned my wand to the boy. He did not understand what happened. He giggled stupidly, holding a fist in his mouth, eyes sparkling.

_Neither can live while the other survives._ The prophecy echoed through the nursery. I had him. It was so easy. I was so close. I strode up to the crib, tasting victory already, and peered in. 

His laughter faded, and now the child sat nervously, fretfully bunching up his pale yellow blanket in his scrubby little hands. Nervous surveying eyes stared up at me, the same green as his mother’s, but brighter and more youthful. An orphan now. I had known that life. In a way, I suppose I was saving him from the humiliation of those wretched Muggle orphanages. I smiled cruelly, draw myself up to my full height, positively filling the room. My shadow loomed over the boy, and I threw back my hood. The child’s face got redder and he started to cry, loud whiny wails that rattled my brain. 

I felt no victory in watching the boy cry. Not until he was dead would I truly be satisfied. Again I raised my wand. My fingers prickled as energy coursed through me. I pointed my wand straight at his face. I was careful. I needed to watch it happen, the destruction of this inexplicable threat.

_Avada Kedavra!_

Pain. Intense, fiery pain. My soul had been ripped before. I knew what pain was. Six times I tore myself apart. This was worse. All those times, I had been prepared. Somehow, had I unknowingly destroyed myself? Or, even stranger, was it the boy who was causing my this agony? I needed to disappear, to escape far away from the ruins of this house and the boy’s wails which had escalated into shrieks. I was ruined, thwarted by a _child_. I swore myself revenge.

“I will kill you,” I promised. “ _Harry Potter._ ”


End file.
